


Three Daughters of Durin

by sourassin (scherryzade)



Series: Dwarrowdams [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Dori is still strong, Female Dori, Female Nori (Tolkien), Female Ori, Implied Dwalin/Nori, Nori is still incorrigible, Ori is still far too young
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 23:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scherryzade/pseuds/sourassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The daughters of the line of 'Ri are loyal to their king, and determined to join his quest. Which rather takes him aback...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Daughters of Durin

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt on the Hobbit Kink Meme in March 2013: "Because Dwarf women are rare and precious, a Dwarf man would never allow his mother/wife/sister/daughter to go on a quest where they might get killed by goblins or orcs or a dragon. But Dori, Nori and Ori don't have any male relatives to hold them back."
> 
> Original (full) prompt [here](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/5346.html?thread=11867362#t11867362).

They come to him already dressed for travel, and but for their seriousness, he would laugh. No dwarf could mistake the softness of Dori's features, nor the slender figure that marks Ori still a girl - a child. Of the three, it's the middle sister who wears their affected masculinity most convincingly, feet planted wide and mouth twisted into an unladylike smirk, but the illusion is shattered when she cants her hips and winks at Dwalin.

Dwalin, for his part, flushes to the ragged edge of his ears and growls something indistinct.

"Ladies," says Thorin in his mildest tone, ignoring the snorts of disgust that both Dwalin and Nori make at the word. "You honour me with your loyalty, but this is no trading mission - this is a quest of grave and perilous import, and I cannot in good conscience let you - with no -" He flounders, aware that he's on the verge of saying something that ill becomes his status. They are daughters of a daughter - everyone here knows it - but he cannot bring himself to say that no father would let them come. 

Dori coughs politely. "If I may?" she asks, and he nods. Hearing their argument should at least give him time to work out how to reject their offer without causing offence. "Perhaps if we offered some proof of our usefulness?"

"Very well," says Thorin, and Dori bows, before walking to the fire and picking up the poker leaning against the fireplace. Turning it in her hands with an assessing eye, she suddenly twists the iron in her hands - not once, but twice. She places it on the table in front of Thorin and bows once more. He picks up the misshapen poker cautiously, and attempts to straighten it. The poker barely moves in his hands.

Thorin stares at Dori, who is wiping the coal dust from her hands with a slight moue of distaste.

"Very strong, the line of 'Ri," says Balin knowledgeably.

"Really," says Thorin flatly.

"Aye," Balin says, and then continues unhelpfully, "I'd be prepared to vouch for young Ori, too. We'll need a scribe, and she has a fine, steady hand."

"Indeed?" Thorin glares at Balin, who is clearly suppressing a smile, then at the girl, who bobs in a curtsey, realises her error, tries to turn it into a bow, and nearly falls over completely. As her sisters pull her to her feet, Thorin asks, "Why in Mahal's name do we need a scribe?" 

"Um," says the girl. Her sisters push her forward, and she shyly slips a scrap of paper onto the table. The paper is cheap, one edge ragged where it's been torn from a larger sheet, but the runes are clear and elegantly worked, and the words - 

He looks up at the girl sharply, and she blushes prettily, offering him another half-curtsey, half-bow, and managing to stay on her feet this time.

"And you?" he asks the middle sister.

Nori smiles. It is not a smile that instils any confidence in Thorin. "I'm sure Master Dwalin would be willing to vouch for my... talents," she says, silkily.

"Really?" says Thorin weakly, and tries not to think too much about what that little pause might imply. Dwalin shifts uncomfortably beside him. " _Really_?" says Thorin, staring at his friend. Dwalin glowers, and doesn't meet his eye.

Nori sniggers, then yelps as her elder sister swipes at the back of her head. "My sister," says Dori, "is an incorrigible swindler, practised mountebank and occasional thief. All things I have tried to cure her of, but which might prove valuable on this grave and perilous quest." Dori is soft-spoken, but there is no mistaking the acid in her tone - Thorin recognises it from every time he tries to reason with his sister. "I believe _Mister_ Dwalin has almost caught her once or twice."

"Aye," grumbles Dwalin. "She's a fast one."

Dori makes a noise that manages to sound both scandalised and unsurprised; Nori bows with a flourish.

Thorin doesn't sigh, or bang his head against the table, although he is sorely tempted to do both. But the truth is, he cannot turn them away. If Dain sends warriors to aid them, certainly, but if his cousin refuses? There are no other dwarves waiting to pledge their axe to his cause. 

And he may tell himself that it is Dori's strength, or Nori's cunning, or Ori's turn of phrase that warrants his decision to let them join the quest, but in the end, it is simply that they offered, and he had not the means to refuse.

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell I failed to think of anything pertinent for Ori to have written? I imagine that it pertains to Erebor, and says something about not forgetting where they came from, nor where they are going, and why. /author!fail


End file.
